


In Arms

by Skull_Bearer



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Abuse, Anti-Institute, Brainwashing, Courser fic, Dehumanisation, Dissociation, Freedom, Gen, Gore, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pro-synth, Slavery, Synths, The Institute - Freeform, The Nuclear Option, Trauma, Underground Undercover, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-12-17 18:15:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11856960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: Coursers are the best of the Institute. Smart, fast, deadly, brilliant. The Institute, however, is run by humans.





	1. Lions Led by Donkeys

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my long waffled-about Courser fic! Thank you to Bigwinged and Duchess-of-Trash for your beta work.

 

X6 takes one look and knows this operation is going to be a disaster. He’d been uncertain about it to begin with, Father’s own father, and he had been out in the Commonwealth for six months. It was an unknown variable, and unknown variables got under X6’s skin like sand.

It was straightforward, at least. He could reassure himself that much. A simple catch and retrieve. It was a good op _of course it’s a good op would the Retention Bay ever have a bad op you didn’t think that you didn’t think that you didn’t think that-_

X6 lifts his head as they approach, calm, still, nothing nothing _nothing nothing _-__

And maybe he did it a little too well because for the first few moments there isn’t anything at all and his mind is blissfully black and __somewhere else__  and it takes him a moment to come and and-

Something like this happened once before. He’d finished the op, patched up the hole in his leg and got to sit still and _go away_ while the stimpacks worked and when he came back the deathclaw was almost on top of him.

It’s almost a physical effort not to draw his gun because his mind might be rattling off _tall, frail, male, thin, mixed race _,__  but his gut is screaming _large predator! Shootshootshootshoot!_

X6’s body locks up senselessly and for a moment he cannot move, jammed somewhere between the two desperate, screaming impulses of _danger_ and _orders_. The man grins, a slow, monstrous expression, all teeth and raw red gums. His- __its__ \- eyes are hazel, like Father’s, but flecked with yellow. It's so thin X6 wonders how it can even walk, the Vault jumpsuit hanging lank, stark against the outcrops of its spine and the hideous blades of hips and shoulder bladess. The flesh strapped tight against that grinning, skull-like face, hair lank and filthy and probably crawling with sucking insects.

X6 wants a wash just from _looking_ at it. It’s the Commonwealth personified. And _this_ is where his maker came from? This _thing_? Had it always been like this, or is this what six months in the Commonwealth did to someone?

It had been wrong to let Nathaniel Brooks out in the Commonwealth. They had all said it would be good but X6 had known it was wrong and _it cannot be wrong the decisions are right they are not wrong you are wrong stupid stupid stupid._

He relates the plans. The man makes no answer, just a low, foul snickering. Like X6 had said something very funny. Like the whole world was some sick joke. Which X6 would appreciate, but there’s madness in those yellow eyes, a fractured, murderous hate. X6 fingers his rifle and tries to push his body _somewhere _.__ Follow. The orders say follow. The man turns, looks at him, for a moment there’s a _ _-__ crack, in the madness, and it’s as though someone else is looking out instead, a cool, calm look, full of pity. “Look, go home.”

“I am to come with you.” Orders, orders, the words come out calm. The man’s mouth twists into a sneer, turns his back to X6, raises the lean, black rifle to his shoulder and-

Oh. That is how he killed Z2. One shot, and the raider’s head is gone. Another, two down. Another, three. Z2 had no head when X6 retrieved him. This is why. It seems to be a calling card. He walks out along the creaking planks as the man strolls, easily and without fear, picking off the raiders before they even __see__  him. X6 stumbles as his foot catches in one of the bodies. He looks down and-

Like that. Just like that. There isn’t much blood, just flecks of brain. A lot of them. Every part. Retrieve. Every part. The little shards of bone are so fiddly and small he has to take off his gloves to gather them all. There’s fragments of Z2’s head everywhere. X6 retrieved every part of him and looked back to see he’d left his own bloody fingerprints everywhere, the pieces of bone had cut his fingers to ribbons.

X6 gets his head up. Fine. Fine everything is fine. Everything is okay _no it's not it's not good you don’t feel good or you’d feel bad you don’t feel anything you don’t nothing nothing nothing-_

The man’s companion looks at him. They’re so bundled up in rags X6 can’t make anything out, black tinted lenses on the gas mask, heavy welding gloves clenched tight around a plasma pistol. He pauses, tucks the gun away and holds out his hands as though to help, then changes it into a beckon, _come on_.

Shot shot shot. The raiders fall. Like target practice, like blowing the heads of decommissioned gen 2s. The man’s expression doesn’t change, profound utter disgust. And normally X6 would agree entirely but there is something so very, very _wrong_ about this man, about this whole op, that it’s a struggle to engage his throat and inform him about the target, the deactivation code.

He gets another mocking laugh for his trouble, and oh everything is so very _funny,_ X6 actually thinks this is going to _plan._ Bless.

The man grins, too broad, too bright. X6 is janglingly reminded of the deathclaw again. It had smiled just like this, the same yellow eyes. It had thought X6 an easy meal. It had been mistaken. X6 really, really hopes this man is mistaken too.

He doesn’t get to find out. The man walks up the ladder first, and by the time X6 had gotten up after him, B5-92’s head is in pieces and it is leaking blood and fluid and brains and spare parts across the deck and X6 feels the sudden, vivid urge to _scream._ Not again. Please not again _why?_

The man is half laughing, spinning around to pick off the remaining raiders as they start to run. X6 grits his teeth, and marches down to the brutalised corpse of B5. Nothing even worth salvaging but orders. Orders _ _.__ X6 bends down and starts gathering the parts together.

“Um,” X6 doesn’t turn around, trying to sweep the little shards of skull into a pile. “What are you doing?”

“Retrieval.” X6 manages to keep his voice level. Calm. Calm calm calm calm. Think of nothing. He looks at the mess. Thinks of Z2. What is Father _thinking_ -

_SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP_

“Shit.” The man sounds sick. “Um.” The boards creak behind X6, he doesn’t turn around. He’s not thinking of Z2 anymore. He’s thinking about the chair in SRB. It’s not an improvement. “Here.”

He bends down, helps X6 gather the pieces into a piece of old jumpsuit. Then he covers the last pieces of brain and chips of bone with abraxo cleaner. The pieces spit and fizz as they dissolve. “You’re gonna bury him?” His voice is strangely soft, almost human.

“Of course not.” X6 gets up, braces the corpse against his chest. “There is no need to waste protein.”

This time, the man looks as though he really is about to be sick. “People eat them?” He looks horrified.

X6 rolls his eyes. “The Institute is not the surface, the people are not cannibals. _We_ eat them.”

“Oh.” The man looks shaken. “Because that’s _loads_  better. Yeah.” He shudders. It’s X6’s turn to sneer. A brittle, deranged monster. Another Commonwealth freak. Some Institute projects are not-

_Shut up_

X6 closes his eyes, and welcomes the teleportation beam. Home. Away from this madness. _Home._

 

* * *

 

 

It’s quiet, at least. For a few days. No Brooks. No ops. Then they lose four synths.

It’s like a slow, crawling lump of dread. They’ve lost synths before, there have been slips in security, yes, the numbers are unusually high, but such things can-

They’ve never lost four before.

It has to be coincidence. Just blind chance. The odds are possible, if not likely, eventually, something on this scale must-

_This has never happened before._

The creeping fear latches onto his spine. It’s been there, lurking in the pit of his belly, since Z2. The sense of something very, very wrong, everything just a little more on edge, a little off-kilter. And now they are down four synths.

No. Not four.

Five.

“X4 went off the radar half an hour after leaving.” Ayo doesn’t even look up. “Check what happened to the synths and retrieve what’s left of him.”

X6 nods stiffly. “What of Brooks?”

Ayo glances up, sharply, and X6 straightens, stares off into the distance. “Brooks never even made the op. Must have seen it all going down the tube and got the hell out.”

Oh yes, _of course_  he did- _be quiet!_ Orders. Orders, follow the orders. Gather the remains. The fragments of skulls, the blown out splatter of brains across brick, concrete, dirt and dust. Again, and again.

It’s a strange feeling, like all the strength is leaking out of his shoulders and thighs. Numb and hollow that almost feels like _away_ but still all too much _here_. A flash of X4 skitters across his mind, too fast to push away. Sitting beside him last night when he’d woken up with hands clenched so tight they were solid coils of pain. X4 had taken each fist, carefully loosened his fingers, held his hands until X6 started to relax, and gone back to his bunk.

X6 clenches his hands again, the skin is still raw, torn where his nails had dug into the flesh. X4 is gone. That’s fine. That’s fine. That happens. Coursers die. That what they do. It’s just- subtraction. Minus one. Soon it will be plus one when Ayo finds someone to take his place. New designation. New face. Minus one, plus one.

X6’s spine is rusted iron as he turns and walks out, every joint stiff and unwilling. Just another body. Just another head to gather up. He wonders if he’ll be able to recognise anything about X4’s body, or is Broo- _shut up_  if the bullet had destroyed everything about him.

There are no bodies in the Bunker, at least. It looks like the runaway synths had made it out. It’s not good or bad, really, better than them being dead, worse than being taken back to the Institute. X6 doesn’t feel anything, which would be good, but he doesn’t think this is the good kind of numbness. He doesn’t feel cool, or sharp, or mechanical, he feels sort of blunt and heavy and a bit like sinking through the floor and ceasing to exist for a while. He can still feel X4’s calm, steady hands on his.

He ducks out of Bunker Hill, activates a stealth boy and prowls around the edges of the compound. He can hear the survivors inside, scuttling, hissing, snapping at each other like penned dogs. X6 feels a sick sensation run down his spine. Has to stop for a moment. Clench his hands, unclench. He can kill them. He could walk through those gates and shoot them all. Easy as breathing, laughable. It would be a mercy, in this world. In this place. Blow their heads out as easily as X4’s had been.

He almost wishes they would see him. The last few meters to where X4 had been teleported in are fully exposed but the __idiots__  don’t even notice him. Less than a hundred yards outside their main gates, his feet crunching in shell casings and crusted metal and no one even picks up on him. X6 isn’t numb. He’s violently, explosively _angry_  to the point where he wants to grab a girder and throw it against the main gates, tear them down with his bare hands and crush their heads with his fists.

He’s breathing too hard, ragged pants. Stop. Stop stop __stop__. It takes a huge force of will to crush down the rage and swallow it. Nothing. Nothing come on damn you __nothing__.

And there is nothing. So much nothing that X6 can only stop and stare. The teleportation point is empty. X4 is gone.

_What?_

He can’t- He couldn’t- it's impossible to even _think_ it. It’s wrong, everything he’s been taught, everything in the orders and every number of however-many-resets. It can’t happen. No. _Not to a Courser_ -

There’s blood on the ground, X6 squats down, touches gloves to it. Thick, heavy splatters, so much it hasn’t quite dried yet despite being hours old. The enormous, crushing horror recedes. No. Just wounded then. Gone to ground. Not- anything else _of course not of course not why would you even think that stupid stupid stupid_

X4 paces out the bloodstains. The faint disturbance of rubble, where a body might have settled for a few minutes- making a tourniquet, perhaps? There’s a length of chewed leather and the blood is much lighter after- and moved on. X6 removes his glasses, blinks in the brighter moonlight. Where? Find somewhere close, secure, defensible. Wait for recall. Why didn’t they recall him? Had- he tries to stop the thought, but it comes anyway-

Had he bled to death, out here, alone, waiting?

No, of course not. X6 picks up his pace, peers in the rubble of a building, in scattered old pipes, breathes dust and radiation and the death stink of a dead world. They wouldn’t. That’s what recall was for, Ayo-

Ayo had been raging about the loss of four synths all day. Had spent hours screaming and throwing blame anywhere it might stick to keep it away from him when Father came calling. Had he even looked-

Something catches X6’s eyes and that line of thought mercifully burns out before anything else could catch fire. It’s a heavy dull hillock against the night sky, still faintly steaming. X6 crouches, creeps forwards. His foot slides against something smooth and he can feel the heat of it through his boot. A vertibird blade, it must have been nearly red hot when it came down. The cabin is faintly flecked with moonlight, flickering here and there as something moves.

X6 pulls out his rifle. Slides one foot after another. Silent, still. He braces a hand against the seared hull of the machine, feels something stir within. There’s a faint, hacking sound, a hiss of pain. The filthy white of the barrel, pointed out.

X6 gets his hand over it before X4 can fire and give them away. It kills the stealthboy but this far away it doesn’t matter. X4’s face is filthy and stark, drained of colour. Six hours. This is what six hours out here does to even the best put together synth. What were those idiots in the bunker thinking-

X4 blinks at him, he’s trembling, one leg buckled under him and ligatured up with pieces of his own coat. Three empty stimpacks are scattered around, pillaged from a broken first aid box. His clothes are tattered and scorched from crawling in what must have been near-burning wreckage. It takes him a few uncertain blinks before he recognises X6, then lowers the gun with a low groan, settling against the inner hull.

The ground is sloped and unsteady, X6 steps in anyway and settles against X4, close enough that when they take him back, X4 will come too. His breathing is unsteady, raw with pain, he closes his eyes and rests his head, just a few heartbeats, against X6’s shoulder.

“Who shot you?” His voice comes out rough, uncertain. It feels wrong to speak out loud.

”Tall. Gas mask. Long coat.” X4 grunts, as though each word was being dredged up. “Dog. Railroad.”

A Railroad agent going for a Courser? It seems impossible. Had been impossible, until less than a week ago. Now they have one Courser dead, another injured. “Did you see his arm?” He grits out. Holds up his left arm. It’s the closest he can get to asking.

But X4 shakes his head. “Long coat.” He repeats, pulls at his own arm to emphasize a sleeve.

X6 nods. Could be anyone then. It should be a relief, but it isn’t. These are possible variables, within reality, but oh _what are the odds?_ Thousands to none, although X6 doesn’t feel like calculating just how remote they are.

X4 catches his breath. His mouth moves, trying to manage more. “Had a synth.” He says finally. “Gen 2. Hat, Coat. Gun.” He puts a hand to his shoulder where plasma had soaked through his coat and seared the skin.

The man with the gas mark and welding gloves had had a plasma gun. He looks at the burn, it’s the sort of shot you might try to disable rather than kill, to force an opponent to drop their gun. X6 touches the air just above the wound, then runs his hands down over X4’s body to the bloody mess on his right leg. The stimpacks have kept his leg together but that’s definitely the same shot that blew out B5 and Z2’s heads. The shinbone is bloody white in the moonlight, the muscles clinging desperately to what was left, the skin clean gone.

“Tried for my head.” X4 breathes. “Changed. Leg.” A breath, very soft. “Hurts.”

Why? X6 shakes his head. Why change? Why X4’s leg? There was no mercy in those animal eyes. Surely it would be safer to leave no witnesses. X4’s breathing is heavy, in pain but he is alive. Why?

A brief flash of those eyes, softened, mouth drooping. Hands coming down to help X6 gather the pitiful remnants of B5’s head.

No, of course not. Foolish. X6 closes his eyes as he feels the first prickles of static electricity run down his spine. X4 pulls away a little, tries to straighten himself as much as possible, head up, eyes forward. X6 lifts his own head proudly. They did it. It doesn’t matter what else happens. They did it. They made this op less of a disaster than originally expected. They are Coursers, that’s what they do.

They are strong, they are better, they can deal with anything the Commonwealth can throw at them. Why can’t the Institute see that?

 

* * *

 

 

Of course, that is a foolish thought. The man- Brooks. He should be thinking of him as Brooks- comes along only a few days later. He’s still smiling, or at least, his lips are rolled back, showing his teeth as he stalks down the halls. And it seems like only X6 is seeing this because everyone else is just _smiling_ and nodding and is there something wrong with X6? If everyone else seem to think this is normal- maybe X6 is the one overdue a reset.

X6 rubs his face, his head hurts. He closes his eyes and he can see Z2’s ruined face again, B5’s ruptured skull, X4 still alive but his leg so butchered he had been unable to walk, smeared gore down X6’s coat as he leant on him. The smell of blood and brains up his nose. He didn’t sleep last night because the darkness had grown teeth and he’d thrashed himself off the bunk to get away from the bloody jaws. He- he probably does need a reset.

Then he lifts his head and- maybe not. Because there is R5, and she is looking at Brooks with wide, shocked eyes. She looks up, sees him. _Can you see it too?_ She blinks. _Who is this? Why is it in the Institute?_  X6’s eyes tracks quickly to where Doctor Higgs is smiling at the intruder. R5’s face tightens, imperceptibly. _What is going on? Is it us?_

Two Coursers, going wrong at the same time? The odds are astronomical. But it __must__ be them, it cannot be- anything else. It cannot. It cannot.

R5’s eyes go wide, warning. X6 turns and- Higgs is coming towards him. It’s like- a knot of ice, sliding down his throat. X6 straightens, tries to look purposeful. He is busy. He has a mission. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see R5 hesitating, she wants to back him up, but-

No, it was her last time. It’s X6’s turn. It makes sense. _He can’t._ He just needs to follow orders. That’s easy. It’s what he does. _He can’t._ He looks at Higgs calmly, _he can’t- oh stop shut up make it stop make it stop go away away away-_

It works maybe a little too well, he blots out the next few seconds and Higgs has said something and he’s missed it and it’s doesn’t matter because X6 knows what he’s said. He takes a breath.

“Actually, he’s pretty busy.” Brooks is suddenly there, just behind Higgs. “I can’t spare him right now, sorry.”

“You?” Higgs looks him up and down. Brooks is a good two inches taller, but Higgs is easily twice his weight. “What do you want with him?”

“SRB,” Brooks is trying to smile, but keeps slipping and showing his teeth. His eyes are fixed on Higgs’ throat. “Rogue synth.”

“I’ve just come from Ayo.” Higgs glowers. “He didn’t say anything about rogue synths.”

“Well, they didn’t know about it then.” Brooks crosses his arms. “Now they do. Besides, what the hell happened to ‘we’re too reliant on synths?’”

Higgs looks X6 up and down. His skin crawls. He wants a shower very badly. “About the only thing they’re good for.” He smirks. “You can be honest.” He runs a hand over X6’s shoulder, down to the small of his back. “They do make them look good.”

_Somewhere else anywhere else not here not here not here_

Brooks looks like he may be about to vomit. “I don’t care how he looks, I want him to find a runaway synth. Or do you want me to go to Father about this?”

“Oh yes, Father.” Higgs smirks. “Well, some of us have actual needs, and blood in our veins. Most of us, in fact.” His hand crests over X6’s hip and X6 redoubles _somewhere else somewhere else anywhere else-_

 _ _“__ I thought you were married?” There’s a note of desperation in his voice. Somewhere under the _nothing,_ X6 wonders why. It’s not like Higgs is trying to preposition him.

Higgs goggles at him. “It’s not like it _counts._ Come on synth. Go away Brooks.”

“No!” The roar stops everyone dead. It’s like something from the Commonwealth, raw and deadly and bursting into the pristine world around them and- cheapening it, smearing itself against the walls and tainting everything. “He is on _my orders._ ” Brook’s hand is tight as a trap on his arm. “Go and jerk yourself off for a change, Higgs.”

There’s a nervous wave of giggling. Higgs’ face is scarlet. Brooks doesn’t wait, but just marches off, pulling X6 behind him. X6 risks one glance behind, but R5 had disappeared, and Higgs is stomping off alone. Good.

“Okay.” Brooks lets him go, slumps against the wall. “Shit.” His rubs his face. “That was possibly one of the most revolting moments of my life. That I can remember. _Fuck._ ”

X6 is still- a little too _away_. He grasps at himself, tries to pull himself back together. Here, here. It’s okay to be here. Safe. “What mission is this?”

“Mission-” Brooks looks at him, bewildered. “Right.” He shakes his head. “Shit. Okay, there was a sighting of a- a Railroad Synth in- in- in the Boston Mayoral Shelter. Yeah. That’s good. Out west. You know where it is?”

X6 nods uncertainly. What is happening? “We have records of the layout.”

“Yeah, well I actually went in there and there are a lot of pipes and back chambers you didn’t check out. So __really__  go through everything. Every last mote of dust- no wait, don’t do that. You’d actually do it and be there for years. Just look- really really carefully. Okay? Until you feel better.”

“I am perfectly functional.” X6 feels a cold trickle of sweat run down his back. No one knows about __away.__  But there’s something sharp and calculating in Brooks’ eyes.

He smiles, a real smile, tired and worn out but still _real._ “Yeah, I bet.” He pats X6 and _no _-__ X6 starts, it’s a tiny thing, but his body is starting to break away from his own control. __No- no-__  but Brooks just starts away, horrified. “Shit! I didn’t- I mean- okay, no touching. Promise. Now go one, get your- gen 1 gang back together and go and check out that bunker.”

He doesn’t move. X6 has to slowly get himself moving and head out to get a troop from SRB and get teleported out. Brooks’ eyes burn into him the entire way. He wonders if his coat is about to catch fire.

There is nothing in the bunker. _Of course- shut up-_ X6 goes over the area meticulously, then leaves the gen 1s to looks for evidence and goes back to the door. Sits. Stares out at the bleak, cauterised landscape. Goes away. The world outside just- stops mattering. Everything stops mattering. He doesn’t think of the consequences of coming back with no synth. He doesn’t think of what Higgs is going to do when Brooks isn’t there. He doesn’t think of Brooks, prowling around the Institute like a mad deathclaw, learning the layout in order to strike and __yes__ , that’s what he’d doing. He’s learning them, discovering vulnerabilities, weak spots.

At least Higgs is suspicious now. Perhaps with a little prompting from X6- and R5, since it’s her turn next- he can bring the suspicions to Ayo, or Father himself, and get Brooks locked out of the Institute before it’s too late.

X6 flows back to himself, the wretched world coming back into focus. The gen 1s are waiting behind him, patiently. They have found nothing. There was nothing to be found. Brooks much have wanted him out of the way for some reason- for a moment, Brooks’ face flickers through his mind; the horrified, nauseated look as Higgs touched X6- then he shakes his head. Foolish. Of course not. Brooks was worried he would be in the way for some plan he wanted to enact. Who knows what it is? Nothing good, of course.

He finds out, the moment they are taken home. The whole Institute is ringing with it. Brooks has been named Father’s successor.

Higgs is dead.

 

* * *

 

 

He isn’t the last. They lose two more Coursers within the week. A routine raid on a Railroad safehouse ends in blasted failure. Two dead Railroad operatives for two dead Coursers. No, not dead. More than dead. X6 was not told who he was retrieving and still has no idea because it wasn’t just heads this time. No heads, no limbs. Nothing but shredded lumps of flesh.

He’d had to decided what they were through process of elimination. Had found a single glint of a chip in one of the bloody ruins. The blood soaks into his gloves as X6 picks it up. He pares through the slaughterhouse wreckage of the other gore pile with his gun barrel, then his hands.

Then stops, sits down with his back against the wall and stares out of the shattered window at the faded, alien sky. The blood is tacky and stiff between his fingers. The chip must have been shattered because all he has are the shattered gun casings of the three dozen bullets pumped into a body left beyond dead.

He turns the lone, sad little chip between his fingers. The skyscraper is dead and silent around him. The killers’ footprints are dried out, tracked down into the heart of the building but hours gone. There weren’t even any units to recover here. Two dead operatives. Out of hundreds. Two dead Coursers. Out of twenty eight- no, twenty seven, with Z2 dead. And now with the loss of these two, they’re down to twenty five.

Three dead Coursers, in the space of as many weeks. X6 looks down helplessly at these new lost ones. Wonders who they were. Not X4, he is still recovering from his leg injury. Not R5, she was training with- K6 and Z9. Five he can account for. X6 closes his eyes, tries not to think about this morning. The twenty seven of them, getting out of their bunks. The lone, empty bunk of Z2. Now, two more empty bunks. Two more places they will try not to see.

How many more are there going to be? How many tomorrow, the day after, the day after that? Is it going to be X6’s turn to have his brains and body blown to tatters one day? Or will he one day wake up in his bunk unable to look anywhere because he is the last one left?

“Where are the bodies!” Ayo’s face is blotched, flashes of white and red badly mixed in like blood on a cold corpse. He slams down the tiny chip that is all X6 has been able to retrieve. “I sent you out to bring back the bodies!”

“The bodies are dismembered.” X6 relates, dully. “No sizable fragments left for retrieval.”

“No- did they blow them up with nukes? Boil them in acid? _Feed them to the dogs?”_ The last almost makes X6 flinch, his back locks up and his mouth dries to nothing. “Do you think you’re too important to get your hands dirty?”

“No.”

Ayo slams the chip down again, it cracks. Something splinters in X6’s stomach. “I should wipe you and send you down to _sanitation!_  Then you wouldn’t be whining about getting blood on your hands. Which do you want, X6? Blood or shit?”

“I have no preference.” X6 manages.

“That’s right.” He grabs X6’s collar. Drags him in. “Are you malfunctioning X6?”

The cold spreads through X6’s body, his hands tremble. “I do not believe I am.”

“Because I gave you an order, and you disobeyed.”

Something in X6’s chest hangs heavy, dull and numb, pulling on his heart. Maybe it is his heart. He thinks of the scattered remains discarded on the surface. There is nothing he can say. He nods.

“I will be discussing this,.” Ayo snarls, and shoves him away., X6 lets himself slam against the counter, then, seeing that Ayo seems to have had enough of him, turns stiffly, a hot line of pain across his back, and leaves, walking in further to the SRB to the training rooms.

 _I will be discussing this._ With who? About what? The rules are clear, X6 disobeyed. He should be on his way to be reset now. But he isn’t. Because they have lost three Coursers already. They can’t lose any more, even for the time needed for reeducation.

The helplessness knots in his stomach. Saps the strength from his body. His gun feels heavy in his arms when he lifts it, shoots and shoots and shoots at the targets until the muscles in his arms lock up and his fingers are near bloody. As if he was doing any good in this training, as if he burns through enough targets he can find some sort of- way out. An answer. Something other than watching his home, his purpose, his entire world go over a cliff and only try and believe they can survive it intact.

X6 lowers the gun, picks up a new power cell, slots it in. Lifts it to his raw, aching shoulder for a new rattle of shots-

R5 lifts it out of his hands. X6 turns, irritated, and the world spins around him, a slow, lurching rotation. He starts to stumble, and R5 steadies him. She turns the rifle over, pulls out the cell, and sets them down. X6’s eyes itch, his body aches, he reaches for the gun-

R5 takes his hands very firmly, holds them still. They are shaking, very slightly. X6 closes his eyes. His whole body is trembling, very slightly, an echo of the so many, many shots he’d taken. He looks down at the discard bin, it’s overflowing with spent cells. How long has he been down here?

He looks up and oh, R5 knows. He can see it in her face. He’s defective. It’s no longer just the smell of blood, the phantom teeth waking him screaming at night, it’s too much now, overflowing out and poisoning him inside and out. She looks at him steadily and yes, he needs to go. Sign himself up for a reset and wipe this all away, open his eyes as new and fresh and unbroken. It would be a _relief_ -

And he would forget all about this. He would trust Brooks, put down the deaths and escapes as coincidences and just- carry on. Everything fine. Everything normal. Three dead Coursers.

He wants to. He wishes he could, but there’s a huge, desperate part of X6 which is screaming at him to __stay__ , to hang on just a little longer. This will all end very soon and they will need X6. And maybe it’s the damage speaking but surely he can wait a little longer.

“Another week.” He manages. His head droops and he’s _tired._ When did he last sleep? Has he slept at all?

R5 squeezes his hands, very gently, easing the trembling. Her eyes are soft, warm; mouth quirked down and sad. She lets go and X6 draws himself up as best he can. _Fine fine, nothing to see here. Everything in order._ The mantra is threadbare and exhausted, worn out. R5 follows a pace behind him out of the SRB. The paint fades from white to concrete, the air growing damp and cold. The tension starts to fade out of X6’s spine, he closes his eyes for a moment, breathes. R5 waits, then pushes the door open, and gently nudges him in.

The barracks is full. Brooks has called off all ops and everyone is here. There aren’t enough bunks, twenty to twenty five Coursers. Twenty eight, because no one wants to touch Z2’s bunk. Or X9 or T1’s. X4 is stretched out on the floor, K7 and 2 have managed to fit themselves in the same bunk, plastered together head to feet. R5 marches over to her usual bunk, picks up L6 and dumps him unceremoniously on the floor. He jerks awake, shaking his head. R5 looks down at him, warningly, but he doesn’t protests further, just picking himself up with a groan and joining the group doing weapon maintenance in the corner.

R5 gives X6 a firm look there is no arguing with. He walks over to the bed, lies down, and closes his eyes. No dreams. Please, no dreams. He feels the stiff bunk creak as R5 sits beside him, by his feet. Her hand rests on his calf, a solid point of certainty in world gone utterly rogue. X6 draws in a breath, lets it out. Sleeps.

The siren explodes in X6’s head like a missile. He jerks up and _oh it’s here, it’s now. It’s finally happened._

 _“Emergency order 3. All required, follow emergency order 3._ ”

Three. Oh god no, please. Three;. Evacuation.

The Institute is lost.

No- no of course not. X6 throws himself out of bed, looks around at the pale, terrified faces around him. Trying to remain calm and failing utterly. X6’s breathing grows faster, his hands shake. He kept his clothes on at least, only needs to grab for his rifle and throw it over his shoulder. It takes two tries before he gets the strap settled.

Around him, it’s all the same, trembling hands on boots, limbs that struggle to fit through sleeves. Silent, but for the too-fast, too irregular breathing. This is impossible. __Impossible__ -

“This has happened before.” R5’s voice rings out, clear as a bell. “2113, ghouls attack the CIT basement where the Institute is being built. The scientists evacuate, return when the ghouls have moved on. 2186, a band of raiders take the top levels of the Institute, the scientists evacuate, and flood the levels with gas to get rid of them.” Everyone is still looking up at her. She draws a breath. “2288, the Institute is overrun, the scientists evacuate, _the Coursers keep them safe,_ the invaders are dealt with, and they return in victory.”

It feels like prophecy, the language of command now used to command the universe. X6 feels the terrible, coiled tension start to release. Calm settles solid and comforting over them. They can do this. They have orders. Go to the evacuation point, escort the scientists in their escape, and keep them safe. Orders. Their orders.

But the comfort only last until they leave their barracks. Outside, it is bedlam. People are screaming, shooting, laughing. Mad, raucous, triumphant laughter. Their path brushes briefly past the main atrium and X6 cannot more for a moment, cannot breathe.

The Institute is on fire.

Flames are licking up the inside of atrium, the trees are burning, the paint curling, plastics melting. X4’s hand tightens on X6’s shoulder, and points.

There, oh, there. The man in the gas mask. A long coat and hat rendering him anonymous. He is laughing, laughing and laughing as he throws molotov cocktails into the air, lifts a heavy, murderous black rifle and picks them off in mid-air, spilling burning petrol over everything.

And beside him, a raddled, half-wrecked Gen 2. Someone has dressed it in a coat and hat as some kind of joke, it is following the gas mask man, it turns easily, lifts its pistol, and a guard collapses in a pile of green goo. There’s a flash of white, someone from the residential quarters is trying to run. Gas mask turns lazily, lowers the gun-

And oh. Oh that shot. Just the same. Z2’s head. B5’s. And now Doctor Filmore. Her body splays out over the grass, head gone. Gas mask lowers his gun and keeps firing, shot after shot after shot until the body is nothing but anonymous pulped flesh. The Gen 2 puts a hand on the gun barrel, pushes it away to get him to stop. He’s still laughing. Gas mask. Brooks.

R5 hisses, grabs both of them and pulls them on. More screams behind them, more shots. More laughter. X6’s legs drag at him, desperate to go back and _stop_  this. End the madness. Make it stop make it stop _make it stop_ -

X4’s hand is tight on his shoulder, his face tight- _no._ Soundless speech. _He’d kill you too._

There is nothing he can do back there but die. Going on, he might be able to be of use.

The emergency teleporter is clear. There’s a bare handful of them here, Volkert, Holdren, Thompson, Watson, Filmore- and X6 wonders if he knows what has happened to his wife- Oberly, Orman, Moseley- and Ayo. A handful more that X6 does not recognise. There are barely more of them than there are Coursers. A few bags of emergency rations, first aid kits. A few pistols.

“Finally!” Ayo roars, his eyes are wild, bloodshot. “Get moving now! We need to clear out within three minutes!”

X6 hesitates- this? Them? Is that all? Is this enough? Can they rebuild the Institute with just thirty people- and many of them old, frail.

“We’re still missing some from Biosciences-” Oberly starts. “And- Shaun Brooks-”

“He put us in this mess!” Ayo snarls. “If he’s not here in three then he stays.”

It’s a hot, savage jolt in X6’s stomach, he looks around, leave _Father?_  Is no one going to say anything-

But apparently not. Two more survivors rush in, clothes spotted in blood and draped grey with ash. Then the doors close, the little group of them sealed in. X6 closes his eyes as the teleporter powers up. It was only half an hour before that he was asleep. He would like to still be asleep. He would very much like to wake up.

But when he opens his eyes, it’s to the bleak night of the Commonwealth. The air is chill and heavy, raindrops bead on X6’s lashes and he blinks and blinks to get rid of them.

“What the-” Filmore stumbles to his feet. “Did anyone stay behind? Who stayed to help anyone else get out!”

“Everyone knows how to use the emergency evacuation point.” Ayo growls, “We wait for them to escape. We find a place to withdraw to, and wait for the invaders to leave, or they get bored enough we can send someone back in and set up vermin eradication.”

It quietens Filmore, but the rest of the crowd is still grumbling, eyeing the bags of emergency rations. X6 straightens and pulls off his glasses in the darkness, glances around worriedly. There is no one around, at least, but with their white coats their group all but lights up in the dull, clouded night. X4 crouching on the damp ground, and smearing mud over the brightest and most reflective parts of his uniform-

“Stop that!” X6 nearly jumps at the shout. Moseley glowers at X4. “Behave yourself. Stand up!”

X4 straightens, X6 is desperately grateful for his dull brown coat. He settles his gun more comfortably in the crook of his arm, if anything is to see them, at least they won’t be-

There is a low groan, deep under and around them. The stones under X6’s feet tremble, rattle against his soles, start to roll down the hill, _plink plink plink _.__  X6 reaches out, touches fingers to the nearest tree and feels the growing, furious shaking. An earthquake? It should be impossible but so much has been recently that-

And the world explodes.

The night in front of them is suddenly red- gold-yellow-white white _white_ so bright and burning X6 throws both hands over his eyes and the light burns through both them and eyelids and sears the world dull pink. The heat roars over them, and X6 feels the rain in the air turn to steam, sear red and angry across his hands and face. He stumbles, crouches, the shockwave hits and knocks him the rest of the way over, into the flash-heat baked earth.

The world beats around him like a drum, not even sound any more but a sensation he can feel in the hollow of his chest, in every one of his teeth. He is deaf, his whole body an eardrum ruptured by the impossible sound shaking him to pieces. It hurts, please it hurts _please no stop_ -

Then- it fades. The light burns down from white to yellow, to red and duller, duller until X6 can feel his hands again and blinks, blinded. Blind groping, raw hands across the ground, hiss in pain as the rain falls again, almost boiling hot at first, then cooler and cooler until he’s shivering in relief. The ground twitches, groans under him like a dying body.

X6 rubs his face, over and over again. Blinking until his own hands come back into focus, and he can see __them__. They are here. He is not dead, notor blind. Looks around and they are all on the ground. X4 has been thrown into a thicket and it trying to untangle himself. R5 is clinging to a boulder and is only just still standing. Everyone else is scattered on the ground like so many shell-casings, groaning ,burnt and whimpering in pain.

The wind picks up a little, and the clouds part letting a little moonlight shafts down, glittering on the wild water of the river below, still steaming and heaving and boiling. Rushing into the huge, gaping wound in the earth.

The CIT ruins are gone. The ground is ripped open, is shows black and empty for a moment, then the water sweeps in and it is gone too.

Gone.

_Gone._

As though in response to the impossible, the sky opens and it rains mud, earth, pieces of metal and brick and plastics. Anonymous. Utterly _gone._

They stare down, speechless and united in horror, at the crater where the Institute had been, and never would be again.

 

 


	2. The Soul and the Killing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Institute is destroyed, and X6 and the Coursers have some hard truths to face, and new choices to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to Megaptera for the beta!

The Soul and the Killing

“We have to go.” R5’s voice breaks the silence so suddenly it’s as though X6 has just regained hearing.

“Who told you to talk!” Ayo’s voice snarls out, harsh as a whip. “Shut up! Shut up!”

R5 recoils, sits down hard. X6 looks up at Ayo. _Go on then_ , the voice snarls in the back of his head, furious, _what **do**_ _we do_?

Ayo hesitates, glances around at where everyone is looking at him. “I-” he wants to shout but he has everyone’s attention now.

“We have to go.” Volkert says finally. His voice is heavy, almost- frail. He looks so tired, face even more pallid in the moonlight. He looks up and down the barren, featureless hills. “Away.” He points up the hill. “We have to get away.” It’s spat out, revolted, helpless.

X6 starts to get up, and is shoved down hard by Filmore. Mud slops up his uniform, soaks his coat. He looks up, Filmore scowls at him, terrified and furious. X6 waits, waits until they are all standing, then gets up, slow and gradual. X4 is struggling, his clothes are hitched up in spiked plants, his bad leg slipping and slipping under him. X6 waits until all backs are to them, and helps him up. X4’s clothes tear, but he’s upright. He nods, a brief motion to X6, and they start walking.

It rains.

It rains and rains and rains.

Oberly holds out his hand in fascination, catches the water in his palm. Everyone else hunches their shoulders under their coats, heads down against the driving downpour. It isn’t cold, at least, but the dull, oppressive air coils around them, X6’s clothes stick to his body despite his heavy coat, his breath comes heavy.

The sky is grey in the east and X6 glances around wearily. Come the light, come the hunters, and they are pitifully armed, twenty five to protect thirty helpless humans. Every deathclaw, every yao guai, every pack of savage, sharp-toothed dogs is going to be on their scent.

“You!” Volkert snarls. X6 raises his head wearily, too tired to say anything. “Give me your coat.” He holds out his hand. His own clothes are soaked, X6 registers dully. Institute cloth little good against the irradiated rain of the surface. He strips off his coat, the sleek leather sloughing off the rain, and hands it over. The rain slashes through his own shirt, oh well, at least he cannot get any more wet.

The rain doesn’t let up even as the sun rises. They should stop, they’re all tired and continuing on just makes them obvious. The ground is slippery and treacherous underfoot, sloughing off as they struggle up the slopes. The rain shows no sign of stopping, the underbelly of the sky grey and so low it feels closer than the Institute ceiling. Than the Institute ceiling had been.

The bloatflies are the first to find them. There are four of them, lurching between the trees, wings flicking away the rain before the drops land. The huge, multifaceted eyes revolve, the long tongues flicking hungrily. X6 lifts his rifle, his shoulder is still raw from his practise- yesterday? Had it just been yesterday? Less than twenty four hours. He takes the shot, one of the flies spirals down to crash into the undergrowth.

R5 takes down a second, K2 and L6 the last two. They fall. X6 glances around to make sure nothing else has been attracted by the flashes of light. The Coursers are all on their feet, weapons drawn. The scientists are all on the ground, up to their knees in mud. For a moment, it seems as though the rain stops. The whole world is still, preserved in crystal. The light slants down through the clouds, green tinted.

Green?

X6 looks up. The trees are putting out leaves. It is so fast he can see it happening before his eyes, the little, seemingly-dead twigs unfurling to show tiny green shoots blooming into heavy green leaves. They rattle faintly as the rain hits them.

“Oh,” Oberly gets up, completely oblivious to the dead bloatflies. “Like desert plants, look-”

“Oh, who the fuck cares!” Ayo wavers to his feet, mud splattered all over his front. “What are you all looking at! Don’t you have anything better-”

X6 looks away, _please, shut up_. The last thing they need is more noise attracting bad company-

“Please be silent.” R5’s voice cuts through Ayo’s rants. He falls silent, if only out of shock. “There are more beasts here, we do not need for them to hear us.”

“What did you say?” Ayo’s voice is soft, almost breathless. He is pale, the rain washing down his hollow cheeks. “What did you say!” His voice rises. X6 grits his teeth.

R5 takes a breath, the rain has slicked down her hair, tight little curls around her scalp. “We need to-”

“We need to do NOTHING!” Ayo roars. X6 grabs his gun, that’s it, they are going to be attacked. “Who do you think you are? Are you the head of SRB now? The director? Who the hell do you think you are?”

R5 is silent, but her mouth is pressed tight, dusk-dark skin pale around her lips, the flare of her nose.

“I should have you _reset_ -” Ayo snarls, then breaks off. There is a long, trembling moment of silence.

There is no Institute. There is no SRB. There is no chair to reset them. It’s terrifying. This is it. This is who they are. There is nothing more. X6 will never be able to sleep without screaming. Will always see blood everywhere. Nothing more.

“We need to stop.” Oberly speaks up. He is huddled in L6’s coat. His hair is plastered down against his skull, his neck is sagging, covered in stubble. It juts out of L6’s collar like a mirelurk’s. “We can find some shelter and eat something.” He rubs his face, slow and exhausted. “And stop shouting, Ayo, you’ll attract attention.”

Ayo lapses into grumbling silence, scowls, “You’re going to let synths call the shots now?” He hisses, but not so low enough for X6 not to hear. “ _Now_?”

Oberly doesn’t answer. They all get up, slow, unsteady. Their shoes slip and slide over the ground, already filthy and soaked through. X6 watches, them, and makes sure to copy their motions, slow, unsteady. He doesn’t want them to think his boots are any better, and want to take them too.

_They’d already taken too much-_

Stop.

The sun is starting to sink below the hungry teeth of the mountains by the time they find somewhere to stop. It’s a cave, hollowed out by some beast and abandoned. It’s rough and lined with fibrous roots, and stinks of wet earth and rot. X6 looks at it with a sudden, desperate longing. Four walls, a ceiling. Solid and surrounding and safe.

But Ayo scowls at them, points around. Guard, of course. Any number of foul things here. This is their role, their orders. Protect.

_What for?_

Stop it.

X6 sits down, gun splayed across his knees. The plastic is washed white again from the rain, clear beads of water clinging to it like uneven crystal. X6 lowers his head, and laps a drop into his mouth. It tastes fresh, and slightly of bitter plastic. He holds it in his mouth, tries to taste the radiation that must be riddling it. It’s there, but it doesn’t taste of anything. He swallows. It runs cool down his throat. It will pass though his body without harm, but if any in the cave were to try this it would be the first step towards slow, inevitable poisoning.

They keep the cans of purified water inside the cave. A small pack of rations is tossed out. R5 picks it up, turns it over. Maybe enough for five. Three mouthfuls each between the twenty five of them. Her face is calm, impassive, but there is a slight tightness to her mouth, a tension in the corners of her eyes. She’s so angry her hands tremble a little when she opens the pack, and parses out the meager handfuls of nutritional paste.

It’s flavourless, and three mouthfuls is only enough to remind X6 of just how desperately hungry he is. Nothing all day, nothing but lunch the previous day. He’d been too stunned to be hungry, but-

R5 settles beside him, still and raw, K2 on his other side. This close, he can feel the heat of them against the encroaching chill of the evening.

“They need to ration.” X6’s voice lands flat as an insult in the dull, draining silence.

“We’re not getting any more.” R5 answers, not even looking at him. “There will not be any more.” She turns her face up, the eternal rain streaking down her cheeks. A weeping statue. “This is the last.”

_We are the last_. There will never be more of them. No replacements for Z2, T1, or X9. X6 will never again know the simple joy of being made anew, pure and clean and unalloyed. No more nightmares, no more horrors. This will be him for the rest of his life. X6 feels the sudden, furious urge to pull the gun muzzle against his head and pull the trigger. But if he does so, there will be only twenty four Coursers, twenty four forever. That number will shrink, sooner or later, but X6 shouldn’t be making that happen too quickly.

“Here.” X4 appears beside him. His gun is hanging lank from its strap, his arms are folded in front of him, cradling dozens of little red things. “A bush.”

X6 takes one, it’s firm and red, skin taut over bulging flesh. He looks at X4, curious. “Last year.” X4 says dully. He inclines his head, touches his chip. “Broken. A week.” He looks around “Here.”

X6 nods, and takes a bite.

His teeth sink into tough flesh, hard as leather. Then hits a pocket of sweet, rich juice. It fills his mouth, fresh and delicious as a bolt of light in this grey, grey world. Bright color. Vivid red. It runs down his chin and X6 cups a hand under his face to catch it, licks his hands clean and keeps chewing. His jaw hurts from the effort but it’s filling; big, heavy mouthfuls of food.

X4 has handed out the red fruit to the rest of the Coursers and damn the Institute fears of the surface, they’re eating. Mottled red over their hands, wiped away quickly, licked off surreptitiously. Teeth flashing bloody seeds, then covered before anyone can see. X4 bites another in half, and gives the other half to X6, he eats that too, and the world suddenly seems to settle from the wild, airborn whirl it’s been in for the last day. As though the explosion had launched them all up in the air and they’ve only just come down to land.

R5 relaxes a little, just a few degrees against him. K2 rests her head on X6’s shoulder, closes her eyes. They are all settling, like wrecks on the seabed, searching for a quiet resting place. X6 looks at R5, he can stay awake, he got some sleep last night, not all of them did. R5 inclines her head, just half an inch. Then her head droops on its neck, her damp hair unfurls down her face in thin streamers and she doesn’t notice, already asleep.

X6 shifts so she’s braced a bit more firmly against him. K2 turns so he can lean against her back. X4 settles in front of them, head resting against their legs. Around them, the other Coursers are finding similar arrangements, the exhausted resting while the merely tired keep watch. The rain drums on their heads, shoulders, backs.

X6 might have slept, he isn’t sure. He might just have gone _away_ for a while, but it seems as though he’s blinked, and the rain has stopped. It’s full night now, dark, but not the true dark of the Institute. Everything is covered with the faint, illusionist glimmer of silver light. X6 lifts his head and looks up and there’s the moon. He’s run only two night ops before, and both were mostly indoors. The moon is giant, bloated and heavy, and X6 fiddles with the strap of his gun, not feeling too comfortable with having something so huge hanging over his head.

Around the moon are thousands, tens of thousands, of stars. X6 had known about them, of course, they are like the sun, only impossibly further away. Oddly, they help. It’s better than the day, at least, and that fathomless, unending blue swallowing everything. Here, there are markers, indicators of distance. Billions and billions of miles away, but at least they’re _there_.

R5 stirs, lifts her head. She turns against X6 and nods. _Your turn_. X6 closes his eyes, presses his head against her shoulder. Closes his eyes and _sleeps_.

“ _Get up!”_ The roar snaps through his head and X6 starts up, hand flashing to his gun-

And the kick connects with his ribs. The air is smashed out of his lungs and the stars are in his head now, flashing and dancing and blurring out the world in monochrome. X6 rolls, sprawls down the slope and chokes, coughs.

“Get up!” Ayo screams. He’s filthy, unwashed, hair wild and a day’s growth of stubble slowly colonising his face. For a moment, X6 looks at him and thinks- _Threat_.

He blinks, shakes his head. No. That isn’t right. Oh, his ribs hurt. He touches them but- nothing broken, just bruises. Ow. Ayo. This is Ayo. Not Commonwealth scum. Institute.

“What the fuck are you doing Ayo?” Oberly comes into view on the edge of the slope. X6 rolls over to his feet, rubs his chest. “Smashing the only things between us and getting eaten?”

“Those fucking _things_ were _asleep_.” Ayo snarls. “Asleep! When anything could have-”

“We needed rest.” R5 cuts in coldly. “There were always half of us on watch.”

“Did I order you to rest?” Ayo isn’t shouting now, no, it’s worst than that. Shouting they can deal with, now he’s speaking low, frigid.

“No.” R5 answers, blank.

“Are you running the Institute now, R5?” Ayo hisses.

“Who _is_ running it now?” Oberly steps in, a merciful distraction. “Father’s _dead_. The Institute-” he chokes. “Who’s in charge now?”

“Well,” Ayo stiffens, “Given seniority-”

“That would be me,” Holdren says smoothly, stepping in. “You aren’t even the head of department, Ayo, stop acting like you’ve been made director.”

“The head of biosciences?” Ayo snorts. “What the hell do you know about this place? You’re going to grow us a way out of this? I’m the one with experience here-”

“What are you going to eat without biosciences?” Oberly snaps, “Or do you think those rations are going to last forever?”

“We need to plan for the future Ayo,” Volkert puts in, calmly, “We need to look beyond what’s happened, move on to something better.”

“You think you’re going to get anywhere without my synths?” Ayo glowers at the three biosciences, then his eyes dart to Moseley, an obvious call for backup.

“Actually,” Moseley slides in smoothly. “I am the only one who has experience of the surface world, and had been part of two divisions.”

X6 looks between them, helplessly. Looks at R5, she looks back, equally lost. Ayo’s face is flushed. He is filthy, they are all filthy, clothes barely recognisable, hair wild and already infested.

Like any number of the vermin living here. Fighting over the final scraps of a dead world.

Ayo’s eyes are bloodshot as he glances at X4 and- is he going to order them to _open fire_?

Thankfully, the issue is resolved when a deathclaw bursts out of the trees. X6 could never have imagined being glad to see one of the monsters. Its jaws are open, saliva streaming from huge jutting teeth. Its eyes yellow slits, its scaled mask of a face locked in a rictus smile of ironic mockery. He can almost hear Brooks’ laughter in his ears as it bears down on them.

X6’s rifle is in his hands before he is even aware of it. Then it is up, shoulder-height, and he fires.

The shot hits the deathclaw full on the face, it blazes a hot line across the muzzle, but the deathclaw doesn’t even slow and when X6 jumps back to get decent footing and shoots again, its nose is slightly blackened, not even bleeding. He crouches, lifts the rifle, sights-

The shot hits the deathclaw full in the eye and it _screams_ , high and ululating. X6 keeps the beam up for the full shot, even as the beast bears down on him. It’s a heartbeat before it strikes him that the beam cuts out and X6 rolls out of the way. The thing’s claws graze his shoulder, he feels the wind of it, the stench of old blood and dusty scales, but then he’s out of range, looking up to the pocked, blasted socket of its left eye.

“Blind side.” His voice comes out calm, a little terse. This is the most normal he’s felt for far too long.

But they all hear, the Coursers melt away as the deathclaw turns on them, slide easily to the right. The beast roars, maddened, lunges, but they back away, always on the left. It cannot see them, the shots strike easily, almost casually. Throat, head, chest. X6 grits his teeth, they are barely scarring the thing. Black marks, no worse than hitting it with charcoal-

The heavy head turns, the nostrils flare. The lone eye locks on Moseley, who is backing away against the treeline. The teeth bare in a raw red snicker.

“Throat.” R5’s voice cuts in, that same, calm tone. She and K7 have made two good shots to its neck, the skin is hanging in blackened streamers. X6 throws up his gun, sights- hits the same place. The deathclaw staggers, the roar sounds ragged, cracked- they’re getting into the esophagus. Another shot, X4’s. The blood splattered across the muddy ground, but their shots are cauterising as much as they’re boring in.

Moseley trips, slips, sprawls backwards, the deathclaw doesn’t even see him, has forgotten he exists, but it is still bearing down on him, and those heavy, bird-of-prey feet will kill as easily as those murderous claws. X4 lifts his gun, fires. It hits true, and the beast’s scream is high, frail, it staggers, more blood.

J3 is there, right beside him, his gun is up against his shoulder as though it is part of him. He fires.

The shot is so close X6 smells his own seared hair. The shot tears straight through the tattered flesh of the deathclaw’s throat, rips out an artery, windpipe. The scream cut off abruptly to a high whine of escaping air and the beast is falling, crashing down face first into the mud and rotting leaves, rolling over and over until it fetches up half a foot from Moseley’s shivering body.

Ayo gets up. His clothes are stained further, dead leaves clinging to his hair. He pushes past X6, the faint trembling in his body overlayed by a heavy, arrogant swagger. He pulls J3 along with him, drags him up the slope, leans against his shoulder. Moseley looks up. Ayo looks down at him, then around at the shocked faces of the scientists.

_No, no you utter fool- don’t-_

“You wouldn’t last a day without me.”

And with that, X6 can see Moseley’s eyes narrow. Can hear Volkert’s teeth grind. Oberly shifts, barely contained anger. Ayo looks around, mocking superiority. “Anything else you gentlemen feel like adding?”

“Let’s just go.” Oberly snaps, trying to brush down his once-white uniform. “Before more these things turn up.”

Finally. X6 straightens, J3 steps aside, his hand goes to his shoulder, rubs. R5 gets into step beside him and he relaxes, just a little. K2 falls into step beside X6, K7 hangs back a moment, they glance back, and he is shadowing X4, crouched beside the dead deathclaw. The scientists are slow, unsteady in staying together, Ayo is out in front, a good dozen strides out of reach if something were to happen. X6 is about to say something but- his head hurts. He’s running off too little sleep and not enough food. He doesn’t want to be shouted at.

 

For all Ayo’s determination, he has no idea where they are going. They go in circles for most of the morning until they pass the Deathclaw corpse a third time and there is _another_ fight .

“Where are we going to go!” Holdren is snarling. “We can’t just- wander around, waiting for these things to pick us off!”

“Then please, doctor Holdren, enlighten us.” Ayo hisses. “Where _should_ we go?”

“Not in circles.” Oberyl sighs, crosses his arms.

R5 takes a breath, X6 looks at her, widens his eyes- _don’t_. “There is a Vault to the south, there may be hostiles but-”

“Shut up!” Ayo spins around, his hand snaps out, grabs R5’s jaw.

His knuckles are white, forcing R5’s mouth out of shape. X6 can see her teeth, the red flesh of her inner lip. His hands tighten on his rifle.

“Shut your filthy synth mouth.” Ayo hisses, and throws her back. She stumbles, but X6 can see the way her feet slide, trip over themselves, exaggerates the fall.

Ayo spins around, sneers at Holdren and Oberyl. “We’re going south.”

“And which way’s that?” Holdren snaps.

Ayo glances at X6, he inclines his head, tries not to sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

“Where is it?”

X6’s head pounds. Ayo’s voice is like a boring insect in his skull. Make it stop, please.

“Still twenty miles south.” R5’s voice is dull. It’s the same, flat tone he knows but there’s something heavy there too, weary. Too much of this, not enough rest, the scientists snarling and snapping at each other like- like- like _dogs_. There were dogs today. A pack of them. The rifles were good against them, at least. X6 clenches his hands, unclenches, clenches. They are still shaking.

“So we’re staying _here_ for the night, Ayo?” Volkert snaps, sitting on a stone.

“You have any better ideas?” He screams back, X6 winces. Right now, he would take another Deathclaw, a radscorpion, even a dog- just make it stop. Ayo turns to R5, “If you are leading us nowhere-”

“They Vault is nineteen point one miles south.” R5 repeats, and she can no longer keep the weariness out of her voice.

Ayo glowers at her another moment, then nods. “None of you sleep.” He spits. “We’re in the open and you are staying up, all night, to make sure nothing even comes close.”

X6 sits down on the little hillock overlooking the makeshift campsite. The ground around them is barren, sweeping. No trees here. The land falls away to the east into a patchwork, blasted desert. The day’s heat is already evaporating, and X6 shivers a little.

X4 settles beside him, leans against him for heat. He digs into his pocket, and hands him a lump of wet meat. It’s body-warm, wrapped in plastic to keep off the maggots. X6 hesitates, then bites in. It’s tough, chewy, full of tubes and gristle. Deathclaw. It’s food. He chokes it down, looks around in the hopes of finding more of the little red fruit- but the land is parched for miles.

R5 settles beside him, glances between them. She nods at X4 first, then X6- then down to L6. K2, K7. X4 nods and gets up, they start off on a patrol. L6 glances up at X6, nods, X6 nods back, sits down beside him. He leans against X6, warm. X6 feels his eyes start to drift closed, then jerks up, shakes his head. L6 looks up, raises his eyebrows a notch. X6 frowns. L6 shrugs, and leans back against the boulder, closes his eyes.

X6 hisses, gives him a quick kick in the shoulder, and turns away. He’ll stay awake. He won’t give Ayo an excuse to hurt them any more. He stamps down the rise, down the outskirts of the camp, he’ll do a little solo patrol, meet with R5 and X4 on their way back.

The night is sharp, bright. The stars burn with a cold fire. The moon is not up yet, but the distant desert is silvered. An alien landscape, strange and hostile. Featureless, purposeless. A world turning and turning around the sun in its mindless mechanism. X6’s shoulders slump, his eyes close, just for a moment, they burn with exhaustion. Hopeless, pointless. Their own wanderings as useless as bugs across the Institute floor.

Footsteps, he looks up. It’s X4, alone. X6 frowns, cocks his head, _where is R5?_ X4’s jaw works, his hands fiddle with his rifle strap. He looks away.

_No_. X6 straightens, he strides past X4, back into the camp. _No_.

He hears the slap after only a few steps. He peels away, out to the dry little gully running beside the camp. Which one was it? Volkert often had tension to work out. Filmore maybe- although without his wife he might not be in the mood.

_Not again. They are not doing this again. Not here._ This time, X6 doesn't push the thought away. No. No.

Another slap, wet, they’ve drawn blood.

X6 slips on the loose stones, almost falls down. Blunders into the gully. They must be distracted, because no one shouts. Instead, there’s the crunch of loose stones, someone’s fallen. X6 grips his rifle and- what is he going to do? His fingers are white knuckled. What sort of plan is this?

_No. Make it stop. Stop it._

“Not so smart now.” Ayo. It’s a low hiss, he doesn’t want anyone to hear. Not tension. Not sex. This is worse. “I should blow your fucking head off.”

The gun is up to X6’s shoulder. His feet slide easily over the loose stones, silent. “Open your mouth.”

X6’s presses his back against the slope, slips closer.

“Open your fucking mouth.”

He draws in a breath, his finger tightens on the trigger.

“You had no fucking problem opening your mouth before, did you? Couldn’t wait to show me up. Something wrong in the wiring? Maybe I could fix that.”

And- and- and _that’s_ the click of a gun. X6’s whole body goes cold, numb.

“Did you think we couldn’t reset you? It’s just going to be a bit- cruder now. Now, _open your mouth_.”

X6 swings around the last bend, gun up, just in time to see-

The moon is just over the horizon, slants silver light across the bleached-bone ground. Ayo’s gun is against R5's mouth, hollowing her cheek, his free hand in the tight curls of her hair, twisting her head.

Ayo’s eyes are narrow slits, rams the muzzle of the gun against R5’s teeth. Then he looks up, scans over her back, locks on X6’s. He sees his gun. His eyes go wide. “You- _Deactivate Unit X6-”_

The strength ebbs in X6’s arms, his hands tremble, the rifle wavers-

But R5 doesn’t. She moves quicksilver in the moonlight, grabs a stone from the ground and lunges.

There’s a sick, wet _crack_. The blood sears out, black against a black sky, then falling to splatter empty black blots against the moonstruck ground. Ayo slumps back, the gun falling nerveless from his fingers. R5 goes with him, her hand rises, shatter-cracked with blood. The stone comes down again, a dull impact. Rises. Falls. Rises. Falls. Finally, the cracks stop, and there is only the wet, heavy solid smacks of pulped flesh. _Thunk thunk thunk._

X6’s hands shake so hard he has to move his finger away from the trigger. He stumbles forward, _thunk thunk thunk._ R5’s body is coiled up, throwing every ounce of her strength into each blow. The blood. The anonymous blur of flesh and brains. _Thunk thunk thunk_.

_Deactivate Unit X6-_

X6 grabs her arm, R5 spins around, eyes blazing. She blinks, blood flecking her face, a rising bruise against her cheek, swelling on her jaw. X6 stares at her, then down at Ayo, back up.

_Deactivate Unit X6_ -

He’d never heard it before. Or maybe he had and couldn’t remember. It’s like- like the Deathclaw again, missing by inches. A more certain end.

And with the Institute gone, there would be no way of calling him home.

R5’s eyes soften, she touches his shoulder and X6 feels himself start to shake, the tremors shattercracking from the point of contact. The moonlight catches her, haloes her, a silver statue cracked in black. Her eyes bore into X6. She takes his hands in both of hers. They are both trembling. Her fingers are warm. X6 clings to her as the shaking slowly subsides.

Beyond them, an argument is breaking out in the campsite. Screaming. Moseley and Holdren at it again. Who is to have the last ration of 52. A thump, someone throwing a punch. The crack of a ration pack hitting the ground and shattering. More screaming.

Ayo, dead on the floor, happily sabotaging their security for his mindless rage. If it hadn’t been for R5, there would be only twenty three of them. X6 and R5 gone with Z2, X9, T1. The fools at the campsite, destroying the last of their food in their greed. Screaming out to invite any predators to come and feed.

Father, letting in monsters in some- nostalgic idiocy.

It dawns on X6 like stripping sunlight. The whole enormous _lie_. Them. It was all them. The Institute. They had told him. The Institute was the future of humanity. The last gasp of light in a blackened world. The only thing of worth left.

And they had destroyed it.

These humans. These monsters. These degenerate, toxic throwbacks. They had set up the world for a new future, peopled by those who could rebuild it- people like X6, R5, J3, all of them- and they had _squandered it_. Squandered them. They had fought and squabbled over the future like children over food supplements, and when it had shattered on the floor, blamed each other and screamed.

The Institute was on the floor now, broken, destroyed beyond repair. And all they could think of was blaming each other, fighting, screaming. Killing.

Taking it out on the only ones who had honestly believed in the future, worked for it, sacrificed for it. They had been the only ones, in the end. It had been _their dream_. Theirs, not the scientists’. It had been their dream Father and his kin had destroyed in their petty, pointless scrabbles for influence and power.

X6’s breathing comes faster, the deathclaw threatens to come back up.

_It had all been a lie_.

_They_ were the future. Coursers. Synths. The only ones strong enough, capable enough, disciplined enough to survive. The only ones willing to put themselves aside for the future.

He looks up at R5 and- he can see it in her face. She knows. She has known, all this time. The words burn inside him, he cannot breathe. “We are the Institute.” He chokes out. Just them. The last ones left. If only in them, the future still lives.

R5 closes her eyes, the smile gently touches her lips. She nods.

The sheer _scale_ of the betrayal burns him, torches his throat. He grabs his gun, turns in blind rage. They had known. That’s why they hated. That’s why. They _feared_. They knew synths were the future. They knew and they had _destroyed_ that future rather than let X6 and his people have it.

R5’s hand closes around the barrel of his gun, gently. She turns it away. X6 turns to her in disbelief. She shakes her head. She’s smiling, a little sad. Of course, she knows, she’s been through this. X6 takes a breath, steps back. R5 nods, lets go of the barrel. She holds out her hand. X6 puts his hand in hers, feels the calluses, the half dried tacky blood.

They walk away, hand in hand.

It only takes a look. They see R5, her torn clothes, the blood. X6 still caught in the fading tremors of near-deactivation. They stand, take their guns. The camp is still awake, more shouts. Struggles over the last of the supplies. X4 glances back for a heartbeat, then turns away. R5 holds out her free hand, and he takes it too. X6 holds out his, and K2’s small fingers grip it tightly. K7 takes hers, J3 takes X4’s, on and on until they are all holding together, _together_. Whole. It’s not the Institute, it’s small and bare and all raw wounds, but it’s something.

R5 smiles, and X6’s lips creak uncomfortably into the first smile he’s had in weeks. X4’s comes unpracticed, lopsided. R5 lets go of their hands, shoulders her rifle. X6 settles his comfortably across his shoulders. J3’s rest in his arms. They take a deep, night scented breath, and start to walk.

West.

 


	3. Gone down, Hometown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wasteland is vast, endless in threats and dangers. But, there is a place, in the end, for everyone.

The ground is wet underfoot, standing water. Vapor hangs heavy across the reeds, winds between the trees. The leaves are brown, curling on the branches. From spring to summer to autumn in days. Moss shrouds the branches, hangs light and breathless. X6 looks up at it as they pass, then- because there is no one to yell- reaches up and touches it. It feels soft as lace, drapes lightly across his fingers.

Their boots suck and squelch in the mud. For a moment, they all stop, try and step back, suck-squelch. Step forward, suck-squelch. R5 sighs, her head hangs for a moment. She is tired. They are all tired. X6 looks around, trying to pierce the mist, find somewhere to rest-

R5 meets his eyes, shakes her head. Lifts her chin. _Go on_.

The bloodbugs hover in the distance. They take a few down, and the rest stay away. There must be some way of knowing where dry land is- following the wind, or the way the plants grow. X6 glances at X4, but he doesn’t even see it, eyes down, head down, forcing himself on.

His foot hits something- something harder that the sodden earth under the water. X6 pauses a moment, crouches, finds a long spar of metal. He pulls it up, blood rust iron.

The others are looking at him. One end of the spar has sunk into wet ground, but the other is propped on stones. He looks back at them, _why not_? It’s as good a lead as any.

The follow the point of the iron, and the ground slowly changes. Still waterlogged, but their feet roll over the loose pebbles. The fog only thickens as they go, but the ground is starting to rise.

Finally, X6’s feet clear the water, crunch on loose stones. The mist clings to the struts of some long-forgotten construction, the heavy bulk of ancient building machines left alone and abandoned two hundred years ago.

X6 looks around. The bloodbugs are gone, at least. He closes his eyes-

A hand slams on his shoulder. X6 jerks up, grabs for his gun- he’d gone _away_ again, hadn’t even wanted to-

X4 takes both his hands firmly in his, half smiles. He leads X6 gently around the machines. They form a sort of perimeter around the little island in the marsh. K2 and K7 are digging around in the cockpits.

Scavving. They call it scavving up here. Taking from the long dead to eke out a few more days. He is watching two Coursers scavving from the dead. X6’s stomach revolves, he stumbles, his head spins.

“Shh, shh, shh.” X4 hushes him, soft breaths in his ear. He helps lower him down into a hollow. It’s been lined in ancient, half rotted plastic tarp. K2 gives a bright, wordless cry, and rears up, holding a bundle of heavy, dusty fabric. The ancient machine coverings. There are four, one from each machine. The oil has helped preserve them. X4 sits down, pulls X6 the rest of the way down until his head is resting in his lap. X6 stirs, growls, but X4’s hand is firm on his neck. “Shh, shh.”

R5 is still standing. X6 tries to get up, X4 looks at her and his eyes soften. He beckons. R5 looks at them, shakes her head. X4 hisses, and J3 stands. He takes R5’s arm, very gently. J3 has the most delicate hands, long fingered, little fingernails bitten to the quick. R5 could break his grip, break his hands, with a single twist of her arm.

J3 pulls her, light as the falling moss from the trees, and R5 comes. Her feet fall heavy, unsteady on the tarp. X4 smiles as the two of them settle down close by. X6 murmurs, holds out his hand to R5. Her mouth moves, a moue of wretched exhaustion, then she turns, rests her head on X6’s stomach.

K2 throws a blanket to them. It is huge, more than large enough to cover the four of them- five, since L6 scuttles over to them and burrows in with his head on R5’s leg. She runs a hand over his hair lightly.

X4 doesn’t lie down, sitting up. His watch first. He rests a hand on the back of X6’s neck. He is safe. He is in good hands. R5’s face presses in the hollow of his chest. He reaches down, and touches the crown of her hair. She sighs, very gently, and her body slowly relaxes against him.

It’s growing warm now, the tarp is a little uneven under them, but their bodies are pushing aside the stones, forming little nests. Warm. Close. A little blanket ceiling over his head. Coursers around him. It’s the first time X6 has felt safe in- he doesn’t even know any more.

X4 is asleep when he wakes up. L6 is sitting up, keeping watch. X4 is curled on his side, X6’s head resting on his thigh. L6 smiles when he sees his eyes open, X6 smiles back, then just closes his eyes again. It’s not sleep, it’s not anything he knows. But it feels- good, to close his eyes. Rest against X4, feel R5 close against him. J3 lying back to back. He’s warm, the ground is rough under him but it’s so good. Ayo will probably shout but-

X6 sits up so fast the stiff muscles in his back spasm and he nearly collapses again. The trees are bare around him, a thin covering of dead leaves scattered over the blankets, the rutted ground.

He looks around wildly. The other Coursers are huddled together, faces isolated and pallid in the dim light against the blankets. K2 and K7 are sitting away, on one of the ancient building machines, their backs to them, scanning around the blasted, soaked landscape.

They are alone.

X6 tries to get up, his feet tangle in the blankets, he stumbles. He doesn’t know where he’s going. They- they _killed_ a scientist. They killed Ayo. R5 crushed his head with a rock. It’s- it’s- it’s _too big_. His mind can’t quite wrap around it. The Institute is gone, yes, but that isn’t on them. They did their utmost to save it, they did their duty. They followed _orders_.

They killed Ayo. R5 did it but X6 would have shot him himself if he’d had the time. They broke orders. They went _rogue._ They- they are no better than the Railroad now, they are no better than _Brooks_.

R5 sit up, grabs his hand and pulls him down firmly. X6 stumbles, and falls rather than sits back down. X4 steadies him. R5 is calm, steady, eyes a little red from the previous night but controlled. X4’s face is taut, tense. His hands are trembling when he strokes X6’s back. Over and over gently, a rhythm to soothe himself rather than X6.

J3 is sitting up too, hugging his knees, he gropes across the ground, finds his gun and presses it against his chest. He rocks, backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards, then tears open the casing and starts to clean the components. His whole body is trembling.

X6’s breathing is coming faster, his body is starting to shake harder. X4’s hand tightens on his shoulder, desperate. The shaking moves to him, they are tearing apart. They are killers. They are traitors. They are defective. They are broken. Malfunctioning machines.

“We are loyal to the Institute.” R5 calls out. Her voice falls strangely flat. “We are _still_ loyal.”

“Ayo.” X4 whispers.

“Would do it again.” L6 grunts.

“We are the only loyal ones.” R5 continues. “They,” back east, “were not.”

It’s like the click of a key in a lock, the last digit of a passcode. X6 feels the terrible, snapping tension in his spine start to unwind. The reminder of the truth.

“They were loyal to themselves.” R5 continues. “Their projects, their ambitions, their-” her hands tremble, “their lust _._ ” She looks at X6. “Their hate _._ Crawling for their own gain. We were loyal. We believed. The future of mankind. The better world.”

She looks around, her mouth moves, twitches misery. “We were the only ones. They lied to us. It was only ever us.”

They are all looking at her. X4’s arm creeps over X6’s shoulder, the heat of him melts the tension and X6 huddles closer. His face is softer now, the lines around his mouth smoothed. There’s a faint shadow of stubble on his cheeks, and when he lowers his head to rest against X6’s, he can feel the slight prickle of a beard.

“They destroyed the Institute.” R5’s voice is heavy, exhausted. “They would have destroyed us. For food. For fear. For hate.” She swallows, “And the Institute would truly be dead.”

She looks around, the others are moving in, a little closer. Being close to her is like- like a small piece of home. Like being back in the Institute, just for a heartbeat. The world clean and clear and perfect again, just for a heartbeat.

“We are alive.” Her voice rises a little, and X6’s heart lifts with it. “And some part of it lives with us. That is a victory. This is what we do. If there is something left of the Institute, we are it. If there is hope in this place, it is us.”

It feels like- like being remade, reset and built again out of precious materials. Precious. Valuable. He thinks of the synths in the Institute, overlooked and forgotten until they ran, and then suddenly more precious than gold. What is it about the Commonwealth that makes them all so valuable?

R5 slowly lies back down beside them, half closes her eyes against the settling light. The faintest lines of a smile touch her lips. X4 gently nudges X6. X6 looks up and X4 stands, very slowly, pulling him up too. Their bodies are stiff from lying on the hard ground. X6 rubs his arms against the faint, coiling tendrils of the returning night-fog, looks curiously at X4. He smiles, very lightly, and shoulders his gun. His mouth moves, he swallows, and X6 suddenly remembers how hungry he is.

Food. Yes.

There are no red things here, maybe the ground is too wet, but they find little clumps of berries floating on the water. The taste is almost overwhelming, bright tart and sweet. X6’s mouth feels raw from it, his teeth tingle. They gather handfuls, X4 takes off his shirt, ties the sleeves and neck, and they fill it with the soft berries.

There is a light breeze, and for a moment the mist lifts, traces over the outline of buildings to the northeast. X6 hesitates, but X4 shakes his head, they turn back.

They are walking through the mire when the mirelurk lunges up out of the water. It’s a lot easier to bring down than the deathclaw, at least. They drag the carcass up towards the construction site. J3 has started a fire when they get back, and the others are all huddled around it, looking up in anticipation. They smile when they see the mirelurk, the stained shirt-bag.

The sight sets a fire of its own, somewhere just under X6’s ribcage. A warm, lovely feeling that lights a warm smile across X6’s face. He can see a mirrored one on X4’s. Joy, like bringing a synth home, like succeeding in training. Success, a triumph, having been a part of making the world a better place. Maybe not the world, this time, but their world, for them.

They crack through the carapace with sharp stones. The flesh inside is translucent and silvery, they skewer chunks on sticks and hang them over the fire to cook. It pales to opaque white in the thin smoke, tastes a little tough and rubbery when X6 sinks his teeth into it, but clean, salty.

The flesh in the claws is softer, more tender. There is so much that X6 looks at the sticks and sticks of food and wonders what to do with it. His stomach is taut and warm, teeth slightly filmed with salty skin and pulped berry. He wipes them clean with the hem of his shirt. He’s shot too many surfacers with bad teeth to not be too careful.

Everyone is safe, everyone is fed and rested. X6 was a part of this, he helped make this happen. It feels utterly wonderful.

_Nothing had ever felt so good, even before-_

Shut up. X6 presses his fingers into the bridge of his nose. But- it feels good here, simple. Fewer variables. No scientists demanding time, picking fights with SRB, ordering them to- to do- other things.

_They ordered him and Z2 to fight once. Placed bets. Had not let up until they were both so bloodied they couldn’t stand-_

_Shut up!_ He shifts a little, rests his back against X4’s arm. X4 hums though a mouthful of berry, and puts an arm around him. The juice has stained his fingers purple. X6 turns his head, presses his nose under X4’s ear, his hair is longer now, it tickles, his skin is paper-rough with fine stubble.

“Buildings.” X4 points in the direction with his free hand. “Many.”

The group stirs, turns. R5 gets up and slowly one by one they all stand. X6 hesitates for a moment, then gets up too, he looks around, fiddles with his strap. _There might be hostiles_.

They pauses. J3 turns his gun over, snaps open the cells. Counts, holds up three fingers.

X6 checks his, four. They are all counting. Five, two, none for L6. None of them more than seven, and no chance of getting more. R5 glances towards the distant buildings, then back to them, lifts her gun and turns it over. This is their best chance for new guns, the ones they have are all but useless.

 _Guns that barely scratched enemies. Synth gorillas. Pointless experiments. Forced sex. Not enough food. Not enough sleep. Doors thrown wide open to human monsters_.

X6 closes his eyes, stops fighting, letting the words wash over him. They are true. They are all true. R5 is right. They were the only ones who even tried to fight for the Institute’s future.

Night is coming on. They walk slowly. There are lights in the buildings, low and dull orange. Inhabitants. A few more meters in and they freeze. The rattle of gunfire. Definitely hostile then.

The brief flash of a shadow across a light, a shot passes overhead. They know something is out there, even if they cannot see them. J3’s rifle is up, the shot streaks out, a perfect marker of location, but the shadow vanishes. The light briefly flares redder as the body ignites.

The night erupts in gunfire. X6 grins. Around him, he feels the answering smiles of his fellow Coursers. This, they know. This they can do. Somehow, this suddenly feels every bit as much like home as the Institute.

 

* * *

 

X6 makes the last shot from the church roof. His new gun kicks satisfyingly in his hands and the woman in power armor crumples to the ground. He closes his eyes against the long, long drop under him, and slides back down the steeple stairs.

The church is a reeking, bloody mess. The ground and shelves strewn with bodies and parts of bodies. J3, K6 and Z9 are starting to cart the corpses out. It’s a large space, open, but the windows are still whole. Some holes in the roof, but nothing that can’t be fixed.

Outside, the buildings press too close. A benefit when it had been them using them as cover, but now they are spread out all over the area, searching every corner for any leftover hostiles. Somewhere to the south, there’s a cry, a shot.

Like wiping out vermin. Exterminate one cluster and another will pop up. X6 kicks the wall of an old building. The ancient pasteboard cracks, part of the ceiling sinks. Hmm. X6 gives it another kick, knocks out a board, finds one of the remaining props and pulls it free. The roof crashes in with a wet, crumpling sound and a cloud of dust and spiders.

One down. There are about a dozen more buildings. Mostly pasteboard, but a few brick. Clearing those out will take a few days. Once the buildings go down, they can set up barricades, dead ends and watchpoints. The ground is flat for miles, waterlogged to the south and east. It won’t be safe- _open to the sky, frail slate and pasteboard ceilings-_ but it might be the best they have.

He finds R5 standing beside the church, looking north. X6 follow her gaze and tries not to shudder. L6 went up there to clear out the hostiles. The concrete is cracked and crumpling, half collapsed. The pillars are corroded, chunks missing, the metal struts almost rusted through.

People _lived_ up there.

All the strength rushes out of X6’s legs, his stomach makes a long, shuddering revolution. The concrete groans high above them and X6 finds himself, quite to his own surprise, on the ground. The graveyard is bare earth, he digs his fingers into the dusty soil and hangs on. “L6-” He manages.

“Down.” R5 nods. She scans the long length of the overpass. It breaks off shortly beyond the city to the south, then out of the northwest. A stretch of a good two clicks. Rotting, decaying. It’s going to come down sooner or later, and X6 would rather not be here when a storm finally finishes the work of time and entropy.

R5 lifts a finger thoughtfully, counts support struts. Four. If those fall, they could collapse the bridge into its own footprint. Turn it into a nice little blockade. X6 nods, he’ll start a search for explosives.

There are a box of landmines in the church. X6 finds them when L6 tosses the case out of the church door. X6 picks one up. It isn’t live, or else most of the front of the church would be gone. He looks at L6, who looks away, embarrassed. He stashes the mines in the corner of the church, and continues to dig. K2 watches him for a moment, then breaks off from breaking up the shelves and joins him.

Three boxes of land mines, two missile launchers with full stocks. A fat man with a dozen mininukes. Ten fusion cores that would go off very well when heated to the appropriate temperature.

X6, K2 and K7 carry the packs and boxes out to where R5 is examining one of the supports. X6’s legs hesitate, grow strangely heavy and- detached, as though no longer entirely part of him. The heavy overpass blots out the stars. If the bombs were to go off now-

R5 smiles, takes the box of landmines off X6, and gently pushes him away. He doesn’t run. He is in control. He is not afraid. He is not running. Just- walking a little faster than usual. When his heart is no longer pounding quite so hard, he turns back.

They have put up the mines around the structure. Two fusion cores to light up the area, missiles, fat boys. X6 unshoulders his new rifle- smooth metal, a long, heavy barrel, large explosive bullets. He sits down, lifts it, waits.

K7 is dispatched on the second strut, R5 stays with the third, K2 moves on to set up the last. X6 can just about see them, outlined in the late moonlight. The night is very still, but he can hear the faint crunch and stirrings of the other Coursers, setting up carefully. This is going to be a big explosion, and if there are any more hostiles nearby, they will come running.

K2 is coming clear. R5 stands up, raises a hand high. X6 lowers his rifle and fires. The night lights up with flashes of new bullets, a red glare from R5’s institute rifle.

The landmines go off white, the flames bloom gold as the fusion cores catch, then-

The mininukes.

The ground shudders, X6 drops down. The night suddenly feels very very cold.

The supports shudders, light up white as the concrete cracks, shears off from the metal skeleton. The overpass crumbles, pieces of concrete and shattered cars fall down- the cars rupture and burst up in new fireballs.

Shriek, crack. The whole monstrous structure shudders, buckles. The gun slips from X6’s hands, he sits down hard. The ground shakes and he hears the buildings around them groan and crack warningly. Finally, the whole outflung line of concrete shatters to the ground in a blotting cloud of dust and yellow flashes of new explosions.

The sky seems- strangely bare without it, stripped of something that had been there for centuries. Part of it still stands, wandering drunkenly north, but they have a good five clicks clear. X6 nods, his neck feels- frail, wobbling. He pushes himself up- and sits down. Hard. His legs simply refuse to work. He looks down at them. _What is_ _wrong with him?_

The ground is still trembling. X6 is shaking all over. The ground. The tearing explosion. The blaring light and fire. X6 looks around- no, just Coursers. No one else. They are alone. The Institute has _not_ just exploded all over again. That was- almost a week ago. A week ago. A week. Five days. One two three four five.

X6 closes his eyes, lets the glare of the explosions fade behind his eyes. He shivers, curls up around his gun. A hand falls on his shoulder and he starts, looks up. It’s L6. He smiles, it should be sardonic, but it comes out a bit sad too. He sits down beside X6, and pulls him in. L6 is solid around the chest and shoulders, broad arms. He’s thrown away his rifle for a massive, powered hammer that knocked a crater into the ground when he put it down.

Maybe the trembling in his arms is due to the weight of the thing. Maybe. X6 rubs his shoulders, his upper arms. L6 closes his eyes, his breathing comes a little fast, then slows. Ruffles the hair at X6’s ear. His hair is starting to grow out now, stubble across the back of his head, even a little along his jaw now.

R5 gets up. She is steady, calm. Looks across the broken spine of the overpass, nods. She is the only one standing. They are all on the ground, all shivering. X6 takes a breath, gently disentangles himself from L6 and tries to stand. He wavers, stumbles. L6 props himself up with his new hammer, reaches out a hand to help X6 finds his feet.

The remaining buildings in the town are crumpled from the collapse. The crack of weakened beams, the groan of half fallen walls. The church is still standing, although the steeple fell with the overpass. L6 pats his arm, and goes back in, throwing out more junk to clear the floor.

X6 stamps on the floor. Wooden boards, but solid. Kept off the ground so they don’t rot. Petrified over the centuries. Dry, warm. Z9 has found a broom, waves it with a smile. X6 nods, half sad, half amused. They’re all cleaning crew now. Z9 puts the brush down and tries to push, but he shoves it too hard and the head snaps off. Z9 loses his footing and falls to the ground with a _thunk_. L6 snorts. They all smile.

X6 scans the room, a nice wide space. He pauses, and goes back to the half collapsed lot across the street. Two mattresses are slumped down from the fallen ceiling. X6 spaces them with his eyes, glances back to the church. Three across, maybe. Three or four down. The mattresses are not that heavy, and they are dry, but they are unwieldy. He heaves them up, balances them on his head, and wavers back to the church.

They have to go against the wall, to begin with. J3 is on the ground with a bucket of rainwater and a box of abraxo cleaner, scrubbing happily. He looks up at X6 and smiles sadly. He used to be cleaning crew, X6 can see that now. Maybe some part of J3 remembers it. He looks down at his gnawed, red-rough hands, and sighs. His back flexes and he redoubles his efforts against the dirt and stains of the boards.

X6 finds twenty four mattresses in the ruins. J3, K2 and K7 have scoured the floor as clean as it can get. They start laying out the mattresses. Three across, three down. The rest layered over until they are more or less level. X4 and L6 come in with last night’s blankets, more scavenged from the ruins. And maybe that is humiliating, but the sight of these treasures are worth more than the shame of scavving.

There’s a bang from above, followed by a rain of hammering. K6 and Z9 are trying to patch up the roof with more enthusiasm than success. A few more tiles fall down and X4 barks up at them, wordlessly, the hammering calms down a bit. The paling sky is shut off, little by little, and the church falls to a warm, comfortable shadow.

L6 flops down on the mattresses, sighs and rolls over and over, curling around the blankets in a sort of nest. X4 catches X6’s eye, shakes his head and lies down more sedately. X6 stretches out and hisses as the kinks and aches in his spine pop free after the last few nights on rocks. This- this is good. He looks up at the patchwork roof, far above. He can hear K6 and Z9 clattering up there and that’s even better because they are all around him. Beside and around and above.

He isn’t tired, exactly. It’s like being back in the hollow, in the swamp. Closing his eyes just because he can, and it feels good.

He sleeps anyway, and wakes feeling- strange. Maybe he had been tired. Maybe he has been tired his entire life, and it’s only after getting more than three hours at a stretch that he’s learning how it feels to- just not be tired.

He stretches, slow and gradual, hands brushing R5’s hair, Z9’s shoulder. L6 yawns and rolls over, a little too close and X6 shies away, pulling away with a grimace. L6 is a good Courser, for all his attitude, but he _stinks_. X6 sits up, blinks in the faint, dim light of distant morning.

He looks down at himself. His clothes are lank, filthy and reeking. He hasn’t taken off his boots in almost a week and he can feel the filth between his toes, the roughness of his hacked nails. X6 pulls a face and slowly, carefully rolls out of the bed. R5 opens her eyes briefly, but X6 shakes his head and she closes them again with a sigh, a smiling back into sleep.

X6 fumbles his way out, fingers brushing over shoulders and legs, K2 and K7 grumble and shift away, X4 growls and shakes his head, and X6 strokes his shoulder gently, humming nonsensical comfort, until he sighs and closes his eyes.

Outside, the air is cool and damp. Beads of water drape lightly over everything, star-stud a spiderweb strung between fenceposts. X6 looks at it, fascinated. A little red-backed spider scuttles over it, the heavy gems of water waver and ripple little rainbows.

X6 sweeps a hand over the hub of an ancient car, rubbing the water between his palms and trying to clean off the worst of the dirt. It doesn’t do much. He needs more water. X6 glances around, a little beyond the graveyard is a dull metal pump. A spider has made its web here too, and scuttles angrily over the pipe as X6 pulls at the pump and ruins its nest. He brushes it off lightly, watches it vanish into the dust and brown weeds.

The trees are alive, there are spiders and a few little flies even this early. X6 shoves the thought away and pulls the pump again and it coughs, splutters and finally retches out a great gout of filthy water. X6 steps back, horrified- people _drank_ from this? But after another pump, the water clears, runs clean. The weight of it, the coolness is delicious.

X6 washes the filth from his hands, then cups them and drinks. The water tastes metallic and fresh, good. Lowers his head all the way, pulls down twice and sluices cold, breathless water over his head and shoulders. He rubs his face and feels the sharp prickles of stubble. Sits under it and lets it wash over him, soak over his stinking clothes. They cling to him, wet and heavy. X6 hesitates but- Ayo is dead. Higgs is dead. Moseley and the rest will not last long, with no guns, no food and no one to defend them. Here, X6 looks around at the barren world, devoid of everything. Maybe Holdren finally made that murderous disease he's talked about and wiped out all life on the surface, leaving no one but X6 and his people.

It’s the most peaceful thought X6 has ever had. He closes his eyes, slowly stripping off his clothes. It’s not quite _away_ , but it’s relaxing, sweet. His hands are warm on his chilled skin, the cold morning air raising the tiny hairs on his skin. X6 looks at them, fascinated. His feet dig into the wet mud and he washes them clean too. All the dirt and blood and filth of the Commonwealth, washes away in rivulets of grey and brown and he is clean, clean again.

He beats his wet clothes against the pump, washes them, beats them and washes again until the water runs clear through them. They are still stained, but a little cleaner and at least they don’t stink. He hangs them on the fence to dry.

He’s just washing out his boots when he hears it. It faint hissing, a scratching. X6 freezes, looks down into a dark hollow along the fenceline. A small hole, X6 tries to remember what could fit into such a space. A molerat? He crouches, picks up his rifle. The metal is damp and cool against his bare shoulder.

Another skittering, a faint yowl, and the animal slinks out into the dead weeds. It’s black, and sleek, and the two green eyes of it catches the cloudy light of morning. X6 relaxes slowly, it’s too small to be a threat. The animal pads out to the thin stream of water overflowing from the pump, lowers its head and begins to lap up the water with quick little licks of a pink tongue.

X6 pauses, slowly stands up. The animal pauses, and looks at him, but does not run. X6 reaches out, and pushes down on the pump, letting a little more water run out. The thing drinks. A long black tail flicks up like an exclamation mark and X6 smiles. Pushes out a bit more water. As the thing is drinking, he leaves the pump, and comes closer. The animal’s eyes follow him, but it does not run, even when X6 reaches out a hand and rests it lightly on its back.

It is- a cat? He thinks it is a cat. He has never seen one before, had rather thought they were gone. Perhaps this is the last one. It is the last cat and they are the last people. It eats- meat probably. Or fish, or both. Maybe it will eat mirelurk. He strokes the cat’s back and feel the knobbles of its spine against his palm.

The cat has stopped drinking, but it does not move. It leans against X6’s hand, rubs its head against his fingers. X6 scratches it behind the ears and a low, soft rumble emanates from it. Deep, regular growls, soft and happy. It flops on its side and X6 reaches down to touch its belly and stops.

The cat, thinking this is a game, nips at him with needle-white teeth but X6 barely notices. There is something- wrong, with this cat. Its stomach is bulging, irregular and full of hard lumps. When it sits up, its belly hangs huge and heavy under it, distended and grotesque compared to the thin body.

X6 hesitates. It’s dying, no doubt. Some- tumorous growth from all the radiation here. It will probably die soon, and it would be better if it did it elsewhere, away from them.

The cat looks up at him with bright green eyes, makes the soft, pleading sound again- _eow?_ \- and X6 cannot help it and picks it up. It kicks against his arm, but then he braces it against his chest and it calms. Maybe it isn’t sick. Maybe this is normal for cats now, like a mirelurk’s claws or a brahmin’s two heads. Maybe it is sick, and if it is the last cat, shouldn’t they have- a duty to it? If all they can do is behold and remember the Last Cat, isn’t that better than nothing?

X4 is awake when he comes back in, and more are stirring. X4 sees the cat in his arms and stands up with a cry which wakes everyone. Within moments X6 and the cat are surrounded. Hands reaching out to hesitatingly touch soft fur, tiny pink paws, the tip of a tail. The cat looks around, alarmed, and digs its claws into X6’s bare arm.

X6 starts, and does not catch the animal in time as it leaps out, lands neatly on all four feet. X6 hurries forwards, the Last Cat! Even if it is sick, it’s unbelievably fast on its feet. X6 grasps for it and misses, and it leaps into a pile of old boxes. It backs away into the shadows, but at least it is still here. X6 turns and J3 is there, holding a folded blanket. X6 nods, and shifts aside, J3 reaches in and puts the blanket down beside the Last Cat. It sniffs at it, then hops onto it. It treads the fabric, and settles in, curling up happily.

Z9 closes beside them, and puts a few pieces of yesterday’s cooked mirelurk in next to the cat. It nibbles at the scraps, then eats.

X6 looks at them, gestures to the Last Cat, runs a hand gently over its side so they can see what’s wrong. Z9’s face falls, J3’s shutters. R5 sighs, “It might not die.” She says softly. “It might get better, now it’s warm, and has food.”

It might, maybe. At least it shows no inclination to move. R5 is looking at X6 now, uncertain, and X6 remembers he is not wearing any clothes. He points to the pump. Everyone makes their way out, and line up for their turn at the pump.

 

* * *

 

 

There is a small stash of food in the cellar under the church, strange, almost incomprehensible food. Not food paste in the Institute, or the fruits and meats of the Commonwealth, but old food, ancient things from before the bombs. K6 and Z9 are eager to try but it’s so- _alien_ X6 doesn’t want to touch them.

But his stomach is raw, scrunched up and tight inside him. Rest and water and clean and- yes, food. K6 and Z9 are sharing a case of white pastish stuff, J3 and R5 have a box of dull brown meat that looks like part of X6’s boots.

X6 and X4 looks at each other over a box of small brown round things with crispy white caps. X4 shrugs helplessly. He picks up a brown thing, X6 does the same. If they die, they die together.

The white cap crunches against his teeth and the brown thing is heavy and slightly damp in his mouth and-

And that is all X6 really registers for a while. It’s not _away_. It’s not a quiet little place all of his own. Instead, it’s as though his mouth and tongue has swallowed up everything else. The world, the rest of his body ceases to matter, and everything is a slack awareness of _sweetness_ and rich yielding moistness between his teeth, then he hits something- some pocket inside it and a thick, delicious liquid fills his mouth and _oh-_

Then the box is empty, and X6 and X4 are left looking at each other, cream and icing sugar around their mouths. L6 has helped them finish the box, and he is licking his fingers in delight. There are a few more boxes of the things left- X6 can read _Fancy Lads Snack Cakes_ on the box- but R5 is sharing them out, X6 sighs, licks his lips regretfully. X4 wipes his mouth, tries to stifle a sigh but can’t help but lick his hand clean for a last taste. He picks out an old tin and sets it between the two of them. The label is long gone, and X6 grimaces. They should probably have something else, but anything, after that, would be a disappointment.

It was, although not as bad as he’d feared, and X6 saves a few pieces of meat from the stew to share with the Last Cat.

 

* * *

 

X6 kicks the door hard. The building is brick, but L6 is hacking it to pieces on the other side. It sways worryingly, the door buckles and X6 turns his attention to the door jam, two more kicks and the building crashes in on itself in a cloud of cracking wood and brickdust.

The Last Cat is watching them from the open church door. J3 puts a little piece of mirelurk on the floor beside it and steps back, but the cat does not eat. As it hasn’t the whole of today and half of yesterday. Nineteen hours with no food. Something in X6’s chest wrenches, taut and painful. It is dying then. A tumor in its belly. It’s so small, the Last Cat cannot last much longer.

X6 turns back to the houses, moves to the next one. He tries to be angry, want to lash out and break and smash and feel better but it- doesn’t happen. The manufactured rage drains out of him in a long thin stream of despair, and X6 sags back on his haunches, looking into the ruined house.

L6 moves on, and S3 passes X6 to take over his role. X6 nods, he needs- maybe a moment. S3 squats down by the house and shoots out the beams as L6 smashes into the back wall with his hammer. He looks back, but the Last Cat has gone back inside. It could die now. It might be the last time X6 sees it alive. He wonders if there were other cats. Certainly there would have been more, once. He wonders how the Last Cat feels, to have seen all of its companions die, one by one, and be the last one left. To be dying now.

X6 thinks of the barracks in the Institute. Closing his eyes and wondering when he would die too, or if he would be the one left alone. The Last Courser. Poor cat.

The dust is clearing in the house he and L6 brought down, something is glinting in the wreckage. X6 blinks, gets up slowly. They had cleared the place of anything useful, so what is this?

It must have been on a shelf, on one of the upper floors. The house collapsed into its own footprint and the rooms piled into each other. The cans slid down a shelf and are lumped up on the floor, stained and rusted but still in one piece. X6 kneels down. The tops are stained different colours, too vivid to be food. X6 pries off the lid and the smell of it is like a punch to the nose. Harsh chemical both sour and bitter and X6 blinks away tears that must just be due to the fumes.

He knows this, a little uncertain, but he’d seen new parts of the Institute built, and old ones renovated. This is paint. Black and orange and green and brown and white and red. There are a few threadbare brushes half crushed under them. X6 drags them out and looks around, not entirely certain what to do with them. Most of the buildings are coming down, maybe the church could be painted- but there isn’t enough here for the whole structure-

No, X6 straightens. No, he doesn’t need that much. This would be fine.

The cans are heavy, but it’s not far to carry them to a good bare stretch of boards on the side of the church. He puts them down, and goes back inside. The Last Cat is still alive, curled up on the blanket, inside the box, its green eyes are half closed, dozing.

X6 reaches in the box, but the Last Cat hisses and lashes out. X6 retracts his hands, three red lines on his knuckles. He picks up the box instead, tries not to shake it too much as he carries it out. The cat meows, but doesn’t try and jump out. He puts it down outside, waits a few moments to make sure the cat won’t move, and picks up the paintbrush.

The black paint is heavy and thick against the faded boards. Startlingly vivid. X6 glances at the cat to gauge shape, and starts with the ears. Sharp little triangles, although one is a little lower than the other, and slightly irregular in the aftermath of some fight. The long slope down to the nose. It’s such a delicate pink, it takes X6 a few tries to find the right mix of red and white and a touch of brown to match it. The little triangular mouth.

The cat yawns and turns, X6’s brush wanders up the arch of its back, the soft bristled hairs spiking up all over. The long tail pointed straight up like a proud finger to the sky. Four long black legs, four small black paws, he uses the pink brush again to put in the little pads on its feet.

Finally, a third brush for the green. Big green curious eyes. There. The Last Cat. He writes the name underneath and stands back, satisfied. Yes, the paint will fade, and peel, and this won’t last either. But it will last longer, and X6 can always repaint it. They will remember the Last Cat.

He carries it back inside. Sits down and strokes it with hands stiff with dried paint. The Last Cat makes that low, happy growling sound, like a tiny engine. For a moment, he can hope-

But the little piece of meat he puts beside it goes uneaten, and the Last Cat nips at his fingers, curls in on itself and starts to lick its distended swollen belly, over and over. X6 sighs, and stands up. Maybe he can think of other things to paint.

He paints the long-burnt away trees that stood in the Institute Atrium. He paints the targets he saw every day in shooting practise. He mixes the paint, dips in the brush, hesitates and hesitates and hesitates and finally paints Z2’s hands, X9’s smile, T1’s deep, thoughtful eyes. Maybe one day, he could paint the rest. Maybe one day, when the memories don’t stab into his mind like needles. X6 puts down the brush, looks at the pictures on the wall. His hands are blotched multicoloured, stains down his once-white Institute clothes.

R5 is watching him, he looks back at her and she smiles, sadly. Walks over and puts her hands on his shoulders. Maybe this is malfunctioning behavior. Maybe he is- broken. But this feels right. He looks at the pictures and feels nothing but a sense of having done something good, something absolutely correct. Some order come from not a person- but from the world in general.

R5 squeezes his shoulder gently. “Paint my stone.” She murmurs, and turns away.

X6 stays still a moment. Yes. Her stone. His hands tremble a little, even at the thought, but it passes and he picks out the colours. White and black and a little brown for the stone. Red for Ayo’s blood.

 

* * *

 

There is blood in the Last Cat’s box. It licks it up almost as quickly as it comes out, but X6 can smell it. He turns away, lies down heavily on the beds and puts his hands to his nose. The paint had dried and water didn’t wash it off, and now X6 is glad because he can press his nose to it and smell something other than catblood.

He closes his eyes. The Last Cat meows softly in the darkness of the church. X6 sighs, and sits up. Goes over to sit beside the box and covers his nose. The Last Cat is licking itself, over and over, hiding the blood. X6 wants to close his eyes, cannot. He goes away instead, somewhere else, somewhere with no one. Somewhere where there were no cats and had never been cats, so it could not feel their loss.

A meow. And another, softer one. And another. High and piping and almost too high for hearing. X6 blinks. His body is dull and alien around him. The cat is lying down in the box, sides rising and falling in deep, even breaths. It’s belly is- shrunken now, much smaller, and instead it is surrounded by little black and grey pieces of fur. For a moment, X6 wonders if the Last Cat has been able to expel its tumors, if it might live-

Then one of the tumors raises its tiny head, opens an even tinier pink mouth, and meeps. There are a dozen of them, moving slowly, crawling over and over each other to suckle. Little cats. X6’s thoughts are flat, disbelieving. They had one cat. The Last Cat. X6 had fully expected that by tomorrow they would have no cats. Now they have thirteen cats. X6 is not sure what to do with such an embarrassment of riches.

Minus one, plus one. Courser arithmetic. X6 had never imagined you could have one, then have another twelve. Maybe there could be more. If they found another cat- and there must have been another cat, to make these small cats- they could have any number of cats. It’s the strangest feeling, like something in expanding inside X6’s stomach, something so light it threatens to float him off his feet and all the way to the ceiling.

He watches closely as the small cats squirm and crawl around, latch on to the mother’s teats and suckle. Every one of them has their eyes shut. X6 picks up up gently, tries to pick it’s eyes open- it yowls, a high, desperate yip, and X6 quickly puts it back. Maybe they are blind? After the terror over the Last Cat, that’s nothing. They can care for blind cats, they are many blind animals, after all. Molerats and moles and- bats maybe? The cats can live in the church. They have plenty of food.

He checks through the cats, they are struggling over the teats- there aren’t enough for the kittens. X6 waits a moment, then shifts the kittens over, making sure they all get a go. Some are black, some greyish mottled, tipped white on their paws and tail-tips. Each of them small enough to fit in one of X6’s hands.

He glances back at the sleeping church, wonders about waking them- but maybe the cats need to be left alone.

All the same, when X4 walks down from his shift on watch, he waves him over and they spend an hour huddled around the box, watching the kittens roll and mewl.


End file.
